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MASSACRE OF SALT CREEK PRAIRIE 

and 

THE COW-BOY'S VERDICT 

By 

Captain Robert #olbt!)toaite Carter 

U. S. ARMY 






WASHINGTON. D. C. 
GIBSON BROS.. PRINTERS. I9I9 



1-3^1 
.C33 



Gift 

Autlaor 



Massacre of Salt Creek Prairie and 
The Cow-Boy's Verdict 



A Frontier Line — ^Border Posts 

SHORTLY after the Civil War when the hostile 
Indians became more and more threatening and 
aggressive, and their murderous acts and numer- 
ous raiding and plundering excursions so serious as to 
compel the Government to adopt more vigorous measures 
to control them, or, about 1867, it became necessary to 
establish a line of forts, or, more properly speaking, 
posts — for none of them were enclosed works or even 
stockaded enclosures — to guard the extreme Western 
Counties of Texas, then impossible to settle on account 
of this ever increasing Indian menace. 

The security and safety of this entire outer line, and the 
protection of its settlers, was the work cut out for a part 
of our little regular army as a police force — and it proved, 
in more ways than one, a most strenuous, almost herculean 
task. 

These outlying posts and sub-posts were, so far as they 
can now be recalled, Fort Richardson, the most northerly, 
located in Jack County, on Lost Creek, a small tributary 
of the West Fork of the Trinity River, and about 7 miles 
from its mouth. It was built by the Sixth U. S. Cavalry 
and occupied Nov. 26, 1867, and abandoned May 23, 
1878, having fulfilled the object for which it was built. 
It was used as an Indian School tor a short time after- 
wards. Originally a 5 company post it was expanded by 
extending its lines of officers and men's quarters by tents 
to ten or more companies. It was about 450 miles N. W. 
from San Antonio. This post was named for Brig. 
General Israel Richardson who was killed at the battle of 
Antietam, Sept. 17, 1862. 



MASSACRE OF SALT CREEK PRAIRIE 



Next came Fort Griffin in Shackleford County, located 
on the Clear Fork of the Brazos River. It was about 370 
miles N. W. of San Antonio. It was originally a part of 
Maxwell's Ranch, and was built by Lieut. H. B. Mellen 
of the Sixth Cavalry and occupied July 29, 1867 — aban- 
doned about 1879. It was named for Gen. Charles 
Griffin, the original Commander of the famous West 
Point Battery (afterwards Battery "D" Fifth U. S. 
Art'y) who later commanded the First Division of the 
Fifth Corps — A. P. — and finally the Corps at Appomattox 
C. H. He died of yellow fever at Galveston in 1867. 
Next in the line came Fort Concho, Tom Green Co. 

The history of the great Concho region had its begin- 
ning long before the Pilgrim Fathers saw Plymouth Rock ; 
many years before the English heard of Jamestown. 
Unreliable tradition accredits Cabeza de la Vaca and his 
followers with having passed through the domain of 
Concholand during their wanderings in 1535-6; reliable 
history records the fact that two Franciscan Fathers 
visited the Conchos in 1580, more than 100 years before 
the French pioneer, LaSalle, mistook Matagorda Bay for 
the Mississippi and erected a fort at Dimit's Point on the 
La Vaca. It is a strange, thrilling story of these two 
fathers, too lengthy for repetition here. An invitation 
had reached them at Paso del Norte, asking them to visit 
one of the East Texas tribes of Indians and there establish 
a mission. They responded and in their travels they came 
to the country of the Yojuanes, where they tarried several 
months expounding the holy faith to the Indians and 
baptizing a large number of their children. They explored 
the surrounding country and made a very correct map 
thereof, the same which is yet preserved in the Archivo 
General in the City of Mexico. On this map are outlined 
two rivers, the one on the north they gave the name of 
"Concha," the Spanish for Conch, or shell, and to the 
river on the south, they gave the name "Perla," the 
Spanish for pearl. Hence on that old map, one may see 



THE cow-boy's verdict 5 

the "Rio de las Conchas" and the "Rio de las Perlas" 
in the clear outline. While here, they found many pearls 
in the Rio de las Perlas, and hence the name bestowed 
upon that stream. Some of these pearls were sent to the 
Viceroy of Mexico, some were sent to the Spanish Monarch 
in Spain, while, according to tradition, two of the largest 
and best were sent to Rome to adorn the Papal crown. 
Studying the narrative of these two Missionary Fathers, 
one is led to the conclusion that the town of this tribe, 
the Yojuanes, was located at or near the confluence of 
these two rivers, the Rio de las Conchas, now the North 
Concho, and the Rio de las Perlas, or South Concho, but 
there is nothing on the map they made to confirm this 
conclusion. 

Reckoning from the date of visitation of these early 
missionaries, two hundred and eighty years were added 
to the roll of centuries past before any permanent settle- 
ments were made by the white race in Concholand. True, 
it was often visited by trappers, hunters, rangers and sur- 
veying parties. Captain Shropshire, an aged veteran and 
ex-ranger, now living in North Angelo, was a member of 
Burleson's Rangers and with that company spent several 
weeks here on the Conchos in 1852. In 1862, the Chisolm 
ranch was established in the Concho Country and the 
year following, the late Frank Tankersley* effected, so far 
as I can ascertain, the first permanent settlement in Con- 
choland. 

*A town near old Fort Concho was named "Tankersley" — after him — 
one of the early pioneers of that country. John Warren Hunter of San 
Angelo — who died in 19 14 — a newspaper and magazine writer on border 
history and pioneer reminiscences writes in the San Angelo Standard of 
Feb. 18, 1914, as follows:— "Lieutenant Carter, the now Captain Carter 
U. S. A. (retired), was well and favorably known to the early pioneers of 
Concholand, and his memory is yet cherished by the survivors of the Old 
Guard. During his long term of service on the Texas border, he became 
familiar with every trail made by savages and outlaws; mastered every 
phase of Indian ruse, signs, signals and strategy, and in the course of time, 
he became a terror, not only to the Comanchcs, but to evil doers of every 
description. His courage and prowess was aptly voiced in the remark 
of the late PVank Tankersley, who, on a certain occasion in the early 70's 
was asked about an Indian raid then being made in the country and who 



MASSACRE OF SALT CREEK PRAIRIE 



Then came the posts of Forts Stockton, Davis, BHss (at 
El Paso), McKavett, Mcintosh and Inge. There were 
several sub posts or intermediate stations, located at 
different periods— more for rapid communication, by 
courier between posts, than to fulfill any practical offensive 
or defensive purpose. The principal ones were Both- 
wick's Station on Salt Creek — about half way between 
Fort Richardson and old Fort Belknap an abandoned post 
on the Brazos River — Camp Wichita near Buffalo Springs, 
between Fort Richardson and Red River station — and 
Mountain Pass — between Fort Concho and Fort GrifKn. 
There were then no railroads running into San Antonio — 
the "Sunset" Route from Indianola being uncompleted. 
There were no railroads between the posts — and the roads 
connecting these posts with the outside world were the 
stage roads, — mere trails — starting from San Antonio as 
a center, and running as the "El Paso Stage Line," with 
its branches, a distance of nearly 900 miles to that town 
on the Mexican border. Four horse Concord coaches 
started from San A — but long before the first post was 
reached (McKavett being the nearest) they were replaced 

it was that led the squad of the Fourth Cavalry that had gone out that 
morning. "That was Lieutenant Carter," replied Mr. Tankersley. "The 
Indians have a day's start on him, but he'll follow their trail to the jumpin' 
off place, and when he comes up with 'em and gets through with 'em, the 
ground will be tore up, the bushes bit off, an' blood, hair, livers an' lights 
will be scattered all round." Such was the estimate set upon the gallant 
Lieutenant Carter of the Fourth Cavalry. Nor was this estimate confined 
to any particular locality but it became state and national in scope, to the 
extent that he was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for "Most 
Distinguished Gallantry in Action with Comanche Indians," and the 
"Grateful Thanks of the State of Texas for prompt action and gallant con- 
duct," etc., by the State legislature in joint assembly. Captain Carter and 
three of his brothers served in the Army of the Potomac throughout the 
four years' war and is the author of "F^'our Brothers in Blue," a copy of 
which he has kindly sent me and I find it one of the most thrilling narra- 
tives of soldier life it has ever been my good fortune to possess. Nothing, 
however, the scholarly soldier has ever written will command greater 
interest in Texas than his "Reveille and Taps, or On the Border with 
Mackenzie," when the work comes from the press and the distinguished 
author may feel the assurance that Texans will exhaust the entire edition, 
and I may safely say that it will find its way into no less than 1000 homes 
in San Angelo." The writer is indebted to Mr. Hunter for much of the 
historical knowledge of Fort Concho, vSan Angelo, and the settled regions 
in that country since the old Indian days. 



THE COW-BOY S VERDICT 



by small two seated Concord mail wagons which carried 
the driver and an Infantry guard. Two mules were 
' ' hooked ' ' to this vehicle. The ' ' relays, ' ' or stage stations 
were about 20 miles apart, and if the mules were wild and 
unbroken — as they usually were — they were led out blind 
folded and "hooked into" the stage; the driver mounted 
to his seat and took the lines, while the blinded mules 
were held, and at a signal from him the blinders were 
"jerked loose," and the mules keeping the trail made the 
run to the next station when this method was again 
repeated. Our mail was tri-weekly, unless the water 
courses were high and "booming," and then, with all 
stages and wagon trains "water-bound," it was a "gam- 
ble" if we got one mail a month, mounted couriers often- 
times being sent out to meet the stages and bring in the 
mail pouches on their saddles. Frequently our food sup- 
plies ran very low on account of the slowness of the 
Mexican freighters or "bull whackers" who, with their 
double two-wheeled Carreta loads and 6 or 8 pairs of 
steers or "bulls" yoked by the horns (a method which 
would drive a yankee farmer crazy), would often go into 
camp by a stream for ten days, forgetting in the mean- 
time to see if the water had all run out so that they could 
again begin their long journey. "Manana" or "por la 
Manana" — Indianola on the Gulf, 550 miles away, was 
our first base and Bremond on the Texas Central, its 
terminal, (it had not then reached Dallas) was our second 
supply base — and the "Katy" had not reached the Red 
River — but was "hooked up " somewhere North of Atocha, 
I. T. Later, our bases were shifted to nearer points. 

The entire border was ablaze, and the stories that these 
wretched settlers brought in from time to time of murders, 
rapine, burning, pillaging and plundering was almost 
heartrending. We were kept in an almost constant state 
of alarm and preparation for active work, and seldom a 
week or a month went by (these alarms generally occur- 
ring at the full of the moon) that we were not in the saddle 



MASSACRE OF SAI^T CREEK PRAIRIE 



scouting after these thieves, marauders and murderers, 
and always handicapped by the number of hours it took 
to bring the news of a raid to the post, and for us to reach 
the scene of operations, as well as by the fact that the 
Indians always had fresh mounts from their loose herds 
or "caviards" which they always drove on the flanks, 
and which they could use as relays every 20 miles 
or more, while we were absolutely confined to our one 
Government horse or mule whose speed and endurance 
was always limited by the distance traveled and the start 
which the raiders would invariably have of us. This 
without explanation, was always an enigma to the average 
citizen or member of Congress far away from the scene, 
and comfortably ensconced in an office chair, beside an 
open grate with a good cigar and a tall high-ball or a mint 
julep to suck through a straw at the Capitol or "The 
Willard." "Why can't our army officer, on fleet, well 
groomed horses overhaul Indians in a hundred mile chase, 
mounted on scrubby, scurvy ponies or "Cayuses"?" 
The reason is herewith given in brief. 

Most of the settlers, cattlemen and ranchers had moved 
into the near posts for protection, abandoning their 
ranches, except a few of the more daring, and it was with 
these that we kept in close touch and communication for 
news of the frequent bloody Indian incursions, and thiev- 
ing raids for horses and cattle. 

Fort Concho-^A Brief History 

This was about the situation along hundreds of miles, 
in fact the entire Texas border, while we were waiting for 
the arrival of our new Colonel — Ranald S. Mackenzie, 
who had achieved such an enviable record as a Cavalr}^ 
Corps Commander under Sheridan during the Civil War ; 
with such a brilliant reputation we expected much from 
his leadership. The headquarters of the Fourth Cavalry 
which had been at San Antonio, were now, 1871, at Fort 
Concho. 



THE COW-BOY S VERDICT 



Fort Concho 

The estabHshment of a military post on the Conchos 
and its occupancy by United States troops for a period 
of nearly fifteen years, becomes a part of the history of 
San Angelo,* and for that reason a brief history of Fort 
Concho becomes necessary and highly relevant in this 
connection. 

In 1866, a commission was appointed by the Secretary 
of War, to visit all the frontier posts of Texas, which had 
been abandoned by the U.S. government at the beginning 
of the Civil War. This commission accompanied by an 
escort consisting of two companies of cavalry, left San 
Antonio in June or July, 1866, and came by way of Fred- 
ericksburg, Fort Mason and Fort McKavett, and thence 
across to Spring Creek, where they remained in camp 
several days, prospecting, as per instructions from Wash- 
ington, for a suitable location for the erection of a new 
army post. The result was the selection of the delta 
formed by the junction of the North and South Concho 
rivers, and on this point of land, chosen on account of the 
abundance of wood, water, good range for cavalry horses 
and its advantages from a strategic standpoint. However, 
the post was not built exactly on the site chosen and 
recommended. Early the year following, 1867, the first 
contingent of troops — five companies of the Fourth 
Cavalry — arrived and pitched their tents along the 
Concho. The officer to whom was delegated the task to 
survey and plot the new post, decided that the site chosen 

*San Angcio was, at this period, a small border settlement with not more 
than twenty or thirty settlers living in "jacals" and "shacks"— mostly 
cow men and half breed Mexicans. There was one general merchandise 
store known as "Vecks. " It is now a large town with 12,000 to 15,000 
inhabitants. It is the Connty seat of Tom Green County, has two rail- 
roads running into it. and another being completed to Topolobampo on 
the West Coast of Mexico. From a cow country it is now quite a cotton 
center, with schools, churches, up to date stores, newspapers, a modern 
Sanatorium, a Chamber of Commerce, etc. Its growth has been little 
short of marvelous. During the Indian outbreaks there were no wilder 
or more unsafe sections of Texas, or on the entire border to live in. Fort 
Concho now (1Q19), is about the center of the town, and it's parade is a 
park. 



10 MASSACRE OF SALT CREEK PRAIRIE 

by the commission and approved by the Secretary of 
War, was unsuitable, and on his own volition he selected 
the present site on which old Fort Concho stands, made his 
survey, established his metes and bounds, sent in his 
report, and was later tried by a military court and was 
said to have been dismissed from the army. 

As stated, five companies of the Fourth Cavalry, com- 
manded by Col. John P. Hatch, were the first troops 
stationed at Fort Concho. The new post was given a 
multiplicity of names. It was first called Camp Hatch, 
later it was known as Camp Kelly; the construction 
department or quartermaster, called it Fort Grifhn. 
Finally there came an order from district headquarters 
at San Antonio, emphasizing the fact that the new army 
post should be known then and thereafter as Fort Concho. 

The foundation of the first building was laid on the first 
day of January, 1868. It was intended for a ten company 
post and for a number of years all supplies had to be 
brought by wagon transportation from Indianola, 550 
miles, and San Antonio, 230 miles distant. The nearest 
town was Fredericksburg, 160 miles away, a German 
colony, which reaped largely of the benefits accruing from 
the building of the new post. It supplied in a great 
measure the stone masons and lime burners; hay camps 
along the Concho plains were operated by sturdy Germans, 
German contractors furnished vast supplies of grain and 
breadstuffs and German ox and mule trains lined the road 
from the coast to the Conchos. The cost of the building 
of this post has been estimated as high as three miUions. 
I do not assume to say that those figures are correct, but 
after all, the expense involved was immense. For two 
years, two saw-mills were operated on the San Saba, 65 
miles away, for the production of lumber and shingles 
employed in the construction of the post buildings. This 
material was hauled on government wagons, drawn by 
government teams driven by government teamsters who 
were paid $40 per month and rations. The shingles sawn 



THE cow-boy's verdict 11 

from oak, elm and pecan timber, may be seen today on 
the dilapidated roofs of a number of the buildings in old 
Fort Concho, placed in position more than fifty years ago. 
When completed, Fort Concho was one of the most 
beautiful and best ordered posts on the Texas border. 
Its arrangement was artistic and every feature bespoke 
comfort and convenience. On the south side of the ample 
parade grounds stood the officers' quarters, tasty, elegant, 
imposing; on the north, the commodious and handsome 
barracks; on the east the commissary and quartermaster's 
buildings, while the west side of the grounds was closed 
with an ornamental fence with a large gateway in the 
center. 

It was first occupied as a camp Dec. 4, 1867. It bor- 
dered upon the "Staked Plains." Countless herds of 
buffalo grazed between the Twin Mountains and the post, 
much to the alarm of our horse herds — a mile or two 
out — which were frequently stampeded by the huge, 
ungainly beasts much to the disgust of the Commanding 
Officer and the Officer of the herd. The great grey lobo 
wolf and coyote came nearly to the back doors of our tents 
in their ravenous search for offal at the beef corral nearby. 
Their blood-curdling howls, especially the latter — which 
is first a sharp bark, followed by a succession of sharp 
yelps running into each other and ending in a sort of long 
drawn out quavering howl — were, at times almost inde- 
scribably melancholy, and awakened us at all hours of the 
night. The flat, treeless prairies were a vast prairie dog 
village, interfering even in our pursuit of game, and from 
behind nearly every bush or patch of prickly pear, the 
jack, or mule-eared rabbit with ears aloft and vibrating 
with nervous energy, got up with a startled bound and 
disappeared in an instant, leaving nothing but a cloud of 
dust and a most vivid recollection of a misty, shadowy 
form behind him. Herds of graceful antelope were daily 
seen near the "Twin Mountains," a few miles away; their 
white spotted flanks flashing in the sun one moment, the 



12 MASSACRE OF SALT CREEK PRAIRIE 

next disappearing in the dun or neutral tint of the ever- 
lasting prairie. The whistling quail could almost be shot 
from the back porches of the officer's quarters; prairie 
chicken and Highland plover were killed from an ambu- 
lance while crossing the river to San Angelo, or riding upon 
the road to the stage station at "Ben Ficklins" or Bis- 
marck, while on the streams wild duck, curlew, teal and 
the magnificent trumpeting white swan abounded. Upon 
all the pecan timbered creeks wild turkeys swarmed, and 
were brought in by the wagon load requiring but a nights 
still-hunting with shot guns at their numerous roosts. 
Hunting was therefore unsurpassed. Fishing rewarded 
the angler by the slightest exertion upon the Main and 
North Concho Rivers. Our plans had been matured for 
many an expedition to this realm of flesh pots and land 
overflowing with game, this hunters paradise, when lo!, 
the advent of this new Colonel, Ranald S. Mackenzie 
upon the 25th of February, 1871, sent rifles and shot guns 
to the rear to rust in their covers for many a month until 
that larger and more troublesome game "Lo, the poor 
Indian" should be sought and conquered, for the peace 
and quiet of the settlers on the entire intermediate border. 
Fort Concho was abandoned June 20th, 1889. 

The March to Fort Richardson 

On the 25th of March, the headquarters and five com- 
panies of the Fourth Cavalry were ordered to proceed to 
Fort Richardson about 230 miles North-east, and relieve 
the Sixth Cavalry, which was then under marching orders 
for Kansas; and on the 27th the column was filing across 
the Concho River past the little settlement of San Angelo, 
on the road to the Colorado River. There were the usual 
scenes and laughable incidents attending the departure 
of a Cavalry column. Unmanageable pack mules, which 
had kicked their packs loose and scattered their loads of 
coffee, flour and bacon upon the parade, had to be secured 
and repacked ; a vicious horse disciplined ; the condition 



the; cow-boy's verdict 13 

of some unsteady soldier examined, who, liking liquor, 
not wisely, but too well, had imbibed too freely of Mexi- 
can mescal, or the insinuating aguardiente. But at last 
the hearty cheers of the assembled garrison were given and 
the column splashed through the clear waters of the 
sparkling stream and stretched out on its long march. 
Mt. Margaret, named after the most accomplished, loving 
and devoted wife of one of our favorite Captains, E. B. 
Beaumont, was passed — the Colorado was reached and 
forded in the midst of a cold, driving rain storm, which 
made our fires of drift cottonwood at that nights camp 
more acceptable than usual, and the glowing embers of 
the mesquite, heaped up in the mess kettles, which we 
used as stoves, more necessary for those better halves 
who — notwithstanding the many frowns and incredulous 
smiles of our gallant, yet unconverted, Colonel — had 
chosen to share the fortunes of their bold trooper hus- 
bands upon the Indian border. Our next camp was at 
old Fort Chadbourne a small, two company post on Oak 
Creek — then abandoned. A prairie dog village was 
spread over the parade ground — their sharp, squeaking 
barks and comical antics seemingly expressing their dis- 
gust at having their wise town councils broken up by an 
uninvited and noisy intrusion. We had seen many buffalo 
since leaving our camp the night before, and hundreds 
now grazed near this night's bivoac. Several years before, 
Colonel Beaumont had been stationed here with his Co. 
"A." His wife and infant child were with him as com- 
panions. 

The Buffalo Stampede— ^A Thrilling Adventure 

Lieut. P. M. Boehm — Beaumont's first Lieutenant — 
was on duty at Chadbourne with his troop — One day 
Col. B — being absent from the post, hunting, Mrs. Beau- 
mont, as was the custom of many army women in those 
days — whether in camp or on the march — attached a 
lariat to the waist of little Natalie, her daughter, then 



14 MASSACRE OF SALT CREEK PRAIRIE 

beginning to walk, and fastening it to a stout stake or 
picket pin, she was allowed to play about the quarters, in 
sight of her mother. She had a thirty foot radius in which 
to romp. Thus securely "staked out" for safety, and 
where she could at all times be seen, there was little 
thought of fear, for Indian depredations had been less 
frequent since the post was established. Immense herds 
of buffalo were grazing as usual a mile or two away ; they 
had approached no nearer while the company was sta- 
tioned there but, as their sharp cut trails to Oak Creek 
for water — had led in this direction before, this low plateau 
upon which the post was located had evidently been their 
favorite grazing ground. All was quiet, and there seemed 
to be no cause for apprehension, when suddenly some- 
thing alarmed the herds; crazed with fright, and with a 
noise like the roaring of a tornado they came rushing 
toward the post, converging as they ran; other herds 
joined in the terrific stampede; the ground fairly shook 
with the shock of the thousands of maddened animals. 
Mrs. Beaumont heard the ominous sound and stepped to 
the door believing it to be the rolling of distant thunder. 
At a glance she took in the situation ; she saw the countless 
thousands of immense beasts heading for the parade and 
her little one directly in their path. She felt powerless to 
act. By getting in their path she would sacrifice her own 
life. Not a moment was to be lost, however, — Boehm had 
also heard the noise; had seen the herds rapid approach, 
and seeing her imminent danger, was rushing hastily for 
the child — who, unconscious of her danger, was busily 
picking flowers at the end of her lariat. The shaggy 
monsters were even then thundering upon the parade. 
Any hesitation for an instant and she would be trampled 
into a shapeless mass by the frenzied brutes. A mes- 
quite tree stood near the picket pin with limbs low down — 
Boehm reached her by a few bounds ; and instantly pulling 
the picket pin and drawing in upon the lariat as he ran, 
gathered the child in his arms and springing into the tree, 



THE cow-boy's verdict 15 

desperately clung to it with the little girl until the many 
thousands of animals almost brushing them — had passed. 
He shouted and waved his arms ; they divided at the tree 
as they plunged and tore along, thus saving the lives of 
both. A false step, an uncertain movement, and they 
would have been crushed and trampled to atoms. It was 
a thrilling moment! A narrow escape! ' 

The Blockade— Buffalo vs. Bulldog 

The next day we experienced a fearful storm as we 
passed by "Pulpit Rock" and "Church Mountain," and 
camped on "Bluff Creek." Here "Old Aunt Mary" — 
under cover of a bank — baked a large wild turkey in a 
"Dutch oven" to a turn — although drenched to the skin. 
On the 31st, a wild and boisterous day, we wound through 
' ' Mountain Pass ' ' — a narrow gorge or break about a 
mile in length to which we descended from the immense 
high mesa or divide we had been traversing to the plain 
below. Here the Indians had been frequently in the habit 
of ambushing parties and attacking the mail stage. It 
has precipitous sides, covered with a dense growth of 
bushes and scrub trees. Just the place for an ambuscade; 
but we went through safely exercising the usual caution. 
Shortly before a detachment had been stationed at the 
cut on the North side. As we emerged, an almost endless 
prairie stretched out before us, and again we were literally 
moving through almost untold numbers of our bison 
friends. On the right and left of the stage trail the vast 
plain was dotted with herd upon herd clear to the horizon 
their dim bodies contrasting strangely, yet attractively, 
with the vivid green of the short, velvety grass and our 
little column of blue-coated troopers, and where a buffalo 
now would be as rare a curiosity as the Ichthyosaurus of 
past ages. Behind was the white canvas-topped wagon 
train, and ever chasing each other in and among the herds 
and over the rolling sweep were the alternate flashings 
of cloud and sunshine, and the shadows cast by the moun- 



16 MASSACRE OF SALT CREEK PRAIRIE 

tains we had just left. It was a spirited scene, an animated 
picture. As the command wound along the trail and our 
strong scent was "carried down" the fresh wind in their 
direction, the buffalo commenced to raise their heads in 
alarm. The old leaders of each herd seemed to give them 
a warning, and immediately the whole mass was set in 
motion. This had been repeated several times during the 
day. It does not appear to be generally known, even 
among naturalists and writers on the habits of animals, 
that the buffalo, when alarmed, will always cross the 
trail of his supposed enemy and get to leeward, but they 
would never pass to the rear oj that enemy, or of a moving 
body — whether of a wagon train, pack train— Cavalry 
or Infantry Column or a train of cars.* Crowding with a 
reckless and resistless brute energy, each herd, therefore, 
with its chosen leader, gradually worked along towards 
the head of our leading company, until at length it 
brought them in front of the entire command. Our march 
was blocked, and we were compelled to halt to bide the 
time of our beast companions. Further progress was 
utterly impossible. Mackenzie, becoming somewhat 
impatient at this suddenly enforced blockade, because our 
camp for the night had already been selected, and we still 
had many miles to march — seized a carbine from one of 
the men and dismounting, attempted, by firing at the 
heads of the herds to break them and swerve the immense 
throng from the headlong course, now so crowding upon 
the advanced company as to become positively dangerous, 
the horses showing great fear and becoming almost unman- 
ageable. He fired several shots. The nearest herds 
swerved; but, now contrary to their instincts, came 
roaring down beside and parallel to our mounted troopers. 
This was a little too much, even for well-trained discip- 
lined Cavalry soldiers, and the men, in their intense 
excitement forgetful of orders, commenced a rattling 

*Upon mentioning this fact one day to the Superintendent of the National 
Zoological Park at Washington, D. C, he confessed that he had never 
heard of this absolutely fixed habit or instinct of our buffalo or American 
bison. 



THE cow-boy's verdict 17 

fusillade from their saddles. The buffalo veered off, but 
not until several had been killed and wounded. The 
men were sternly ordered to "cease firing." One gigantic 
bull, a leader, was nearest; he was badly wounded. As 
was the case on nearly all marches of troops changing 
station on the frontier, many dogs of all ages, sizes, colors 
and degrees of character and temperament — always an 
undesirable accumulation at every frontier post, — the 
men raising them for companions and pets — had, wider 
protest, accompanied the column on its march. At the 
Colorado River, many of the most worthless curs were 
drowned when fording it, or left behind, but there were 
still several remaining and it was these that had turned 
the buffalo down the column. There was among them a 
large, white English bull-dog, weighing about seventy- 
five pounds belonging to the regimental band. He was a 
powerful brute, and had been trained to pull down beeves 
at the slaughter corral at Fort Concho — seizing them 
always by the nose. He was, withal, a prime favorite 
with the soldiers, notwithstanding his ferocity. The pack 
of mongrel dogs were in full cry after the stampeding 
herds of bellowing beasts as they rushed and tore along 
the column with their peculiar stiff -legged, rolling gate. 
But "King," the bull-dog, singled an immense wounded 
leader, who had now slackened his speed and was faltering 
in his tracks. He sprang at his head with great courage, 
fastened upon him, and the battle commenced with 
the mounted column as silent spectators. It was a most 
novel spectacle. The bronzed troopers; the great shaggy 
beasts thundering by; the white-topped wagon train 
closed up and halted ; the fleeting shadows and the almost 
limitless stretch of surrounding prairie and vast solitude. 
The bull went down upon his knees, but so great was his 
strength that he quickly rose and whirled the dog in great 
circles over his head — "King" had been taught never to 
let go. The entire command now watched with almost 
breathless attention the apparently unequal struggle, 
expecting to see the dog crushed to death. Down went 



18 MASSACRE OF SAIvT CREEK PRAIRIE 

the bull again on his knees, this time not from any weak- 
ness, but to gore the dog; rising, he would stamp his feet 
in rage, then shaking him for a while, he would resume 
swinging and snapping him like a whip cord through the 
air. The foam, now bloody, flecked the long, tawny beard 
of the bison bull. His eyes, nearly concealed in the long, 
matted hair that covered his shaggy head, flashed fire, 
and his rage knew no bounds. The dog, which had begun 
the fight a pure white, had now turned to a spotted crim- 
son from blood which had flowed from the buffalo's 
wounds, mixed with alkali dust — and still his brute 
instincts, tenacious courage and training led him to hold 
on. Had he let go for a moment, the crazed bull would 
have gored and trampled him to death before he could 
have retreated. The bull was now, however, growing 
perceptibly weaker ; he rose to his feet less often. He could 
no longer throw the dog in circles above his head. The 
blood stained "King" to a more vivid red, and begrimed 
with froth and dirt, he had lost all semblance to his former 
self. All were looking for the struggle to end. The sus- 
pense was beginning to be painful. Impatience was 
already displayed upon the men's faces — when suddenly 
Mackenzie shouted. "Kill the animal, and put him out 
of his misery !! " It was a merciful covn.-ms.nd.. Two men 
stepped forward to the enormous beast, now on his knees 
swaying and rocking to and fro — the dog still holding on — 
and placing their carbines behind the shoulder to reach 
a vital point, fired. He gave one great quiver, one last 
spasmodic rocking, and spread himself upon the vast 
prairie dead. Not till then did ''King'' let go! So great 
had been the courage of this favorite dog in his fearful 
struggle, that months after when a post order, annually 
issued for all cur dogs — an accumulative nuisance at all 
frontier posts — to be exterminated — "King," the white 
bull dog belonging to the Fourth Cavalry Band was 
exempted by a special paragraph for his ''gallant con- 
duct.'' 



THE cow-boy's verdict 19 

Fort "Phantom Hill"— The Legend 

Our camp on April ist — was on "Dead Man's" Creek 
near old Fort Phantom Hill which was about one mile 
south of the junction of Elm Creek with the Clear Fork 
of the Brazos. This fort was, like Fort Clark, Texas, one 
of a series built in the year following the close of the 
Mexican war. It is said that Major, afterward Gen. 
George H. Thomas of Civil War fame, established it. 
On approaching the spot from the river valley on the 
north he took it to be a high hill covered with magnificent 
trees, commanding a fine view of the surrounding country, 
and, as he judged, an ideal location for a fort. As he drew 
near, the hill sank into a gentle slope, and the trees dwarfed 
themselves into small shrubs as the mists lifted and the 
mirage which he had been looking at disappeared. The 
low mesquites had spread out high in the shimmering 
air like a ghostly phantom. Although he had been 
deceived by the appearance of the mirage, plenty of wood 
and water were near at hand on the Clear Fork, together 
with logs and stone suitable for building; so he decided 
after all to establish the fort here, which, he said, "We 
will call Fort Phantom Hill.'' The barracks had been 
huge log houses with heavy stone fire places, and included 
a stone house for the officer's quarters, a stone commissary 
store house — and a stone powder house or magazine. 
During the Civil War a large force of Texas rangers under 
Col. Buckner Barry marched to the post and demanding 
its surrender it was given up without a fight, as only a 
small garrison then occupied it. The soldiers vacated 
the post and they and the rangers camped nearby. That 
night the buildings were set on fire, by whom it was never 
definitely ascertained, and all the log quarters were 
destroyed. The post was never rebuilt. As we passed 
through it on our march the officer's quarters still stood; 
also the old magazine, and the walls of the commissary 
store house — the latter being two feet four inches thick. 
Some twenty stone chimneys, mark the ruins of the post — 



20 MASSACRE OF SALT CREEK PRAIRIE 

which for many years has been a noted land mark — and 
their tall white stone columns, outlined weird and ghost 
like against the sky, like giant specters certainly suggest 
phantoms. Many years ago, according to Gen. Ran- 
dolph B. Marcy, father-in-law of Gen. George B. McClel- 
lan and who, with him, surveyed a route about 185 1-2 
for a Southern Pacific Railroad — in a very interesting 
little book which he published shortly after — a dreadful 
massacre occurred at this spot — and with the many 
legends attached to it, many apparitions seem to have been 
associated with the place from a time prior to the estab- 
lishment. Two years later the writer camped on this 
same spot when enroute to Fort Clark near the Rio 
Grande River — and that night in 1873 the tall, white 
chimneys standing like monuments to mark the spot, 
made the flesh creep at their naked ghostly shapes when 
thinking of the bloody tragedy enacted here.* 

By some writers it is claimed that Gen. Robert E. Lee 
built this post, and by others that Gen. Marcy built it. 

OLD FORT PHANTOM HILL 
To the Veterans of the Blue and the Gray 

On the busy Texas border, on the prairies far away — 
Where the antelope is grazing and the Spanish ponies play ; 
Where the tawny cattle wander through the golden 

incensed hours. 
And the sunlight woos a landscape clothed in royal robes 

of flowers; 

*It was on this long march that the writer, when acting as Quartermaster 
during these four weeks between Fort Richardson and Fort Clark, learned 
from an old California "Forty-niner" — a teamster — how to "cross-lift" 
a wheel and prevent a wagon train not only from ^ojtig to pieces, but 
literally from lying down on this dry, treeless plain. It is extremely doubt- 
ful if there are many if any Cavalry officers living to-day who even know 
what the term means, to say nothing of being able to practically apply the 
principle in an emergency. 



THE cow-boy's verdict 21 

Where the Elm and Clear Fork mingle, as they journey to 

the sea 
And the night-wind sobs sad stories o'er a wild and lonely 

lea; 
Where of old the dusky savage and the shaggy bison trod, 
And the reverent plains are sleeping midst drowsy dreams 

of God; 

Where the twilight loves to linger, e'er night's sable robes 

are cast, 
'Round grim-ruined, spectral chimneys, telling stories of 

the past, 
There upon an airy mesa, close beside a whispering rill, 
There to-day you'll find the ruins of the Old Fort Phantom 

Hill. 

Years ago, so ran the legend, 'bout the year of Fifty-three, 
This old fort was just established by the gallant soldier 

Lee; 
And to-day the restless spirits of his proud and martial 

band 
Haunt those ghostly, gloomy chimneys in the Texas 

border land. 

Then once every year at midnight, when the chilling 

Northers roar. 
And the storm- King breathes its thunder from the heights 

of Labrador, 
When the vaulted gloom re-echoes with the owls — "whit- 

tu-woo ! ' ' 
And the stealthy coyote answers with his lonely long 

"Ki-oo!" 



22 MASSACRB OF SALT CREEK PRAIRIE 

Then strange phantoms flit in silence through that weep- 
ing mesquite vale, 

And the reveilles come sounding o'er the old Mackenzie 
Trail, 

Then the muffled drums beat muster and the bugles sadly 
trill, 

And the vanished soldiers gather 'round the heights of 
Phantom Hill. 

Then pale bivouac fires are lighted and those gloomy 

chimneys glow, 
While the grizzled veterans muster from the taps of long 

ago, 
Lee and Johnston and Mackenzie, Grant and Jackson, 

Custer too. 
Gather there in peaceful silence waiting for their last 

review ; 

Blue and gray at length united on the high redoubts of 

fame, 
Soldiers all in one grand army, that will answer in God's 

name. 
Yes, they rest on heights of glory in that fair, celestial 

world, 
"Where the war-drum throbs no longer, and the battle 

flags are furled." 

And to-day the birds are singing where was heard the 

cannon's roar, 
For the gentle doves are nesting 'midst those ruins of the 

war. 
Yes, the mocking-birds re-echo; "Peace on Earth, to men 

good will," 
And the "swords are turned to ploughshares" in the land 

of Phantom Hill."* 

*These verses were copied from "Ranch Verses" — loaned to the writer 
by Cadet Walton H. Walker, 3rd Class U.S.M.A. upon the occasion of his 
visit to West Point at the reunion of his class of 1869 — and after a visit to 
the grave of Gen. Ranald S. Mackenzie in the Cadet Cemetery June 16, 
1909. 



THE cow-boy's verdict 23 

Fort Griffin— Ladies Visit the "Tonks"— Salt Creek 
Prairie — *'Dead Man's Cross" 

We arrived at Fort Griffin on April 4. It had a mixed 
garrison of the Fourth and Sixth Cavalry and Eleventh 
Infantry. As we approached it one could see it for miles, 
being well located on a hill, but it was now in a delapidated 
condition. On the flat below the Post, between it and the 
Clear Fork, lived the Ton-Ka-way Indians who were 
enlisted by the Government and employed as scouts, they 
furnishing their own ponies, and being armed, paid and 
rationed by us. An officer of the Army had charge of 
them and when in the field with troops, an officer from 
the command was detailed to command them. They 
proved to be very valuable as scouts. Many years ago 
they were a powerful and war-like tribe. The Comanches 
were their implacable enemies, and on one occasion, 
becoming jealous of their friendly feeling for the whites, 
they fell upon them and massacred so many that the 
remnant fled to the protection of a military garrison and 
later were located at Fort G. They were the implacable 
enemies of the hostile tribes. Some of our ladies were 
anxious to go into their village and observe some of their 
customs — mode of living, etc. Their curiosity seemed to 
have been soon gratified for they came stampeding back 
into the post shortly afterwards. Something very mys- 
terious must have occurred for we could never get any of 
them to enthuse over the "Tonks" or to describe any- 
thing that they saw or heard, and for many years the 
reticence of that self appointed, investigating feminine 
committee of the Fourth Cavalry was a great mystery and 
a subject of much conjecture — more so than the Presi- 
dent's seven months sojourn in Paris. 

Crossing the Brazos River at a bad ford on April 6th, 
we passed through Old Fort Belknap — now abandoned, 
its tumble down quarters occupied by squatters, and mule 
tenders of the El Paso stage line. It was no longer of any 
importance. At night we camped at Salt Creek, 14 miles 



24 MASSACRE OP SALT CREEK PRAIRIE 

from Fort B, and crossing 12 miles of prairie the next day 
camped at some water holes at the edge of the timber, 
about 16 miles from Fort Richardson — Salt Creek prairie 
was a famous pass-way for Indians coming in or going 
out of the country. On our march this day we passed 
"Dead Man's Cross" where four men had but recently 
been killed by Indians. There were other rude head 
boards marking the last resting place of some "freighter," 
cow boy, or rancher who, in passing along this dangerous 
stretch of stage road, had sacrificed their lives in encoun- 
ters with the Indian raiders and murderers. We had 
occasion to pass these markers for the dead — of which 
there were 21 — many times during the next few years. 

Fort Richardson— The ''Life or Death" Ride 

The next day we found Major A. K. Arnold's battalion 
of the 6th Cavalry awaiting us, Col. James Oakes com- 
manding the regiment having proceeded on his way to 
Kansas with the balance of the command. Our accomo- 
dations this night were very limited and crude, most of 
the Fourth Cavalry going into Camp outside of the post, 
and the bachelor officers most generously tendering their 
quarters to our ladies — who, spreading mattresses upon 
flea infested gunny sacks or burlaps upon the warped 
floors of the pecan log huts tried to wear out a night of 
undisturbed (?) rest and imagine themselves in a state 
of comfort and regal luxury, at the Waldorf-Astoria or 
some other palatial hotel. Before midnight the writer 
was ordered to conduct the empty train back to Fort 
Griffin, starting at day-light. After a sleepless night, 
because of his wife's illness which had begun back at our 
camp on Salt Creek prairie, the wagons were "pulled out" 
on the road. The return to Fort G. was without special 
incident. On turning the train over, and starting back for 
Fort R — on the i6th, we had got as far as the 16 mile 
water hole or "The Chimneys," and were just going into 
camp — the writer's horse (the only one with the escort. 



THE cow-boy's verdict 25 

which was made up of a detachment of Infantry) had been 
unsaddled, when a Cavahy detachment of one Corporal 
and three men rode in hastily and delivered the following 
note. It was from Fort G — which I had left a few hours 
before. It was 7 o'clock — with enough twilight to read. 

Fort Griffin, April 16 
3 P. M. 
Dear Carter: 

I am exceedingly sorry that you will receive bad news by the 
bearer of this. I most sincerely hope that you may find Mrs. 
C — better upon your arrival. Corporal Petri Co "E" 4th — 
who missed you on coming in (taking another road), tells me 
that Gen. Mackenzie ordered him to tell you to take a non- 
commissioned officer and three men, with the best horses and 
hurry through, leaving the train; also to tell you that Mrs. Carter 
is very sick. You told me this morning that you would be the 
only mounted man, so I have got the Colonel to send three men 
to escort you, in case that you have not one. Praying that you 
will find Mrs. C — out of all possible danger, at the same time 
reminding you that you cannot argue that she is dangerous. 
I am, vour friend 

W. E. Reese,* 
2nd Lt 6th Cavalry 
Acting Adjutant of the Post. 

The writer knew what such a message from Mackenzie, 
sent by couriers 80 miles from Fort R — meant. They 
had almost killed their horses in delivering it, as Mac- 
kenzie had directed them to spare nothing within human 
power to reach me. There was no time to lose ; watering 
and giving the horses a thorough "rub down," and 
hearty feed — while they were being saddled, a hasty pro- 
gramme or plan was worked out. The writer's animal 
was a medium sized, half-bred dark-brown troop horse 
belonging to Trumpeter Keleverer, of Troop "E," which 
I had taken for this trip. He had been shot in the head 
with bird shot at Jefferson, Texas, during the "recon- 
struction days," in a raid after desperadoes. He was a 
quick, nervous, jerky sort of an animal, with nothing 

* Reese was a classmate — Class of i86g U. S. M. A . 



26 MASSACRE OF SALT CREEK PRAIRIE 

especially to distinguish him beyond any other troop 
horse except that he was particularly well gaited — had 
an easy covering lope — quick trot — would "fox gait" and 
was a very fast walker. 

"All ready, Corporal?" "Are your men good men ; and 
fit to ride for their lives ?" ' ' Yes, Sir ! " " Mount then and 
follow me as far as possible in all of my gaits ! " It was 1 6 
miles that I had come to "The Chimneys." That in about 
three hours. There were 64 miles yet to cover before day- 
light the next morning. I "led out." I had talked with 
a mail stage driver that morning at Fort G. who had 
been shot in the arm by Indians at the gorge at Salt Creek 
only a day or two before. They had thrown a lariat over 
his head, from which he had disengaged himself, and 
cutting one of his mules loose as he reached the edge of the 
prairie, had escaped with the result as noted, a bad flesh 
wound. We had got to pass that same spot shortly after 
midnight. At a fast walk — trot, single foot, lope, and 
gallop — and over rolling country, the night being dark 
but starlight, the Brazos river was reached at midnight. 
It was as "dark as Erebus." The ford was not visible. 
It was a quick sand ford but not a dangerous one. Throw- 
ing the reins on his neck, the horse was allowed to nego- 
tiate it. The silence of death reigned about this wild 
spot, only broken by the splashing of our horses, as we 
plunged in where the ford ought to be trusting to our 
horses instinct, and their swimming if they slipped off. 
Half swimming and wading through the black, murky 
waters, the swift current rippling against the horses flanks, 
and the treacherous quicksands causing them to sink at 
every step, at last, we gladly emerged from the stream, 
and scrambling up the bank, ascended through the gloom, 
the "steep" leading to the ruins of "Old Belknap." We 
had pushed over this distance at a terrific pace, over 
thirty miles in about four hours. "The horses cant hold 
this gait much longer, Si-r-r-!" respectfully suggested the 
soldierly Coporal. I knew and felt that this was true, but, 



THE cow-boy's verdict 27 

we had traveled half the distance, and we must go through. 
Not a sound could be heard on the midnight air except 
the clattering of our horses hoofs upon the hard, stony 
ridge. We gained the plateau, upon which the abandoned 
post stood. Its dark, spectral shadows loomed up in the 
misty blackness like huge ghosts in our path. We had no 
guide. Little had been seen of the post as we had passed 
through a few days before. The writer determined to 
skirt it for fear of shots from the few settlers and stage 
"mule whackers," its only inhabitants. It was danger- 
ous "riding around loose" in that country after dark, so 
we stretched down the "nine mile slope" to Salt Creek. 
My nervous animal, as we neared the Creek, seemed 
almost instinctively, to accord with my feelings and 
thoughts. He jumped at every sound of the crackling 
twigs under his feet ; nothing seemed to escape his keenly 
awakened intelligence — or notice. The burned trees and 
blackened stumps by the roadside near Bothwick's Sta- 
tion — now abandoned — were just outlined in the blur of 
the night, closely resembling the forms of men — and as we 
moved swiftly by them at a swinging gait, he repeatedly 
shied, and his snorts of actual terror made the air ring 
again and again. We were now close to the gorge, the 
worst Indian pass way in the whole region about. The 
wounded stage driver's story at Fort Griffin and his nar- 
row escape from roping and death was in my mind. It 
had been given to the Corporal in detail, and he was on his 
guard. Moving through the darkly shaded cut, the 
branches of the trees almost touching the water, we could 
not see a hand before our eyes, but trusting to the animals 
instinct, and giving him the spur, a loose rein, and with 
hand on "six shooter" poised for instant action, we 
dashed into the deep ravine, across the cut or gorge, and 
up the hill upon the broad prairie beyond. A mile further 
on giving the command to "close up" and "dismount" 
the first time we had been out of the saddle since leaving 
"The Chimneys," we loosened the girths, rubbed down 



28 MASSACRE OF SALT CREEK PRAIRIE 

our horse's backs, turned the saddle blankets, removed 
the bits, and grazed the horses for about ten minutes on 
the lush grama grass — wet with dew. Again, "cinching" 
and mounting we pushed on. We came upon a camp of 
Mexicans on the right without waking them. Their 
steers or "bulls" were "turned out," and "belled." Their 
huge "Carretas" loomed up like buffalo in a "mirage." 
The embers of their fires were visible for some distance. 
Our presence was unknown to them, and we could have 
easily killed every man. We clattered by the rude head- 
boards of the victims who had sacrificed their lives but a 
short time before. Again we saw freighters on the left. 
They had heard us. My shouting alone saved us from 
their rifles. Jumping in haste from about their camp fire 
and behind their wagons we saw the glint of their rifle 
barrels just in time. Dashing into the timber, we were 
on a very narrow, rough and indistinct road, just i6 miles 
from Fort Richardson. Dismounting to find the trail 
by the hand touch, the Corporal here rode up and declared ' 
that his horses were exhausted and could go no further. 
Halting just long enough to give him directions about 
saving them if possible, and determined to make it in 
alone, the writer pushed in through the pecans and oaks. 
There were no 20 mile relays as Archibald Forbes, the 
English War Correspondent, once had in his famous 120 
mile ride in 24 hours in Zululand. The animal begun to 
flag — and I now begun to use, but moderately, the "quirt " 
and spur — to which he cheerfully responded — several 
times the road had to be found by hand touch. But now 
the moon began to rise — and the way was clearer. The 
loud " too-hoot-too-h-o-o-t-t- of the owls, the loud crash- 
ing of the pecan limbs heavily loaded with their weight 
of wild turkeys — and the loud gobbles -g-o-b-b-l-es! of 
the big gobblers, made the blood fairly dance and tingle 
in the veins. It is in the early, cold grey hours of the 
morning, with man or beast, the sick or well, that natures 
forces flag, the spirits ebb, the strength fails, the heart 



THE cow-boy's verdict 29 

groweth sick and exhaustion ensues. Both of 74s were 
nearly at that point. At about the last notch. The early 
streaks of dawn were approaching. A light touch of the 
braided Indian "quirt" — a slight tick of the persuading 
spur, and the courageous little fellow snorted and took 
the lope. Can one wonder at the undying affection of the 
humane Cavalryman for his noble horse? Reaching the 
brow of the hill overlooking the town of "Jack" (Jacks- 
boro) nestling in the valley on the north side of Lost 
Creek, one could see it and the quarters and stables 
beyond in the fast quickening daylight, throwing fantastic 
shadows all over the land. But there was no time for 
romance and without halting to admire the picture — I 
dashed down the slope, splashed through the creek and a 
few moments later flung myself from the noble little 
animal at the door of my " jacal," and half staggering, and 
crawling into the little picket hut where, but a few days 
before the stern necessities of a soldier's duty had obliged 
me to leave the sick and, in a sense, unprovided-for wife — 
I fell exhausted upon the floor. 

The limbs were numb and cramped, and refused their 
functions. All was darkness before my eyes. I could 
scarcely speak. Old Dr. John F. Hammond said; "She 
is saved!" It was 4 o'clock. Sixty-four (64) miles had 
been covered in just 8 hours, and 80 miles in twelve, on a 
single horse; the 16 miles at little less than an ordinary 
marching gait. The ride for "life or death" was ended! 
The Corporal's horse died — the men's horses were found- 
ered and rendered unfit for service — but, by care and good 
treatment, turning out to graze without grain feeding, 
very little water until cooled off — a vigorous rubbing 
down, etc., the "trumpeters brown horse of Troop "B" — 
with his shot-scarred face, lived to carry the writer on 
other weary miles march and through many more adven- 
tures with Mackenzie and the gallant troopers of the 
Fourth Cavalry. Sometime later the writer measured the 
distance between the two posts with an odometer. It was 



30 MASSACRE OF SALT CREEK PRAIRIE 

80 miles and a few hundred feet. As the writer was acting 
directly under verbal instructions of Gen. Mackenzie, 
sent by courier to Fort Griffin to intercept him if possible 
on the road, and no post or regimental order was issued 
covering such a ride, since it was not necessarily a military 
duty to be performed under orders, no record was made 
of it, for the post or regimental files. 

Gen. Sherman Inspects the Line 

Gen. Sherman was now daily expected on his annual 
tour of inspection of the frontier posts. The writer was 
enjoying as much as he could (?) that enviable (?) tripli- 
cate or quadruplicate role of Post Adjutant, acting this 
and acting that, which is generally thrust upon a newly 
attached officer, for the empty honors resulting, it is 
supposed. In addition he was commanding detachments, 
taking his "tour" as officer of the day, attending "sta- 
bles," drills. Boards of Survey — Courts, etc. etc. One 
day he was startled with the announcement that he was 
to select 15 men from the regiment and proceed on the 
road to Fort Griffin until he met Gen. Sherman and escort 
him into the post. In the meantime two gun detachments 
must be made up at once to fire a salute in honor of the 
Commanding General from the 3 inch ordnance guns of 
which, paradoxically as it may seem, we had two. It was 
not believed that there was a man in the post who had 
ever fired one of these guns, or who had ever drilled in a 
"gun squad." Going to the First Sergeant the question 
was asked: "Sergeant, any artillery soldiers in the Com- 
pany?" "No, Sir!" and so on one company after another 
was visited until finally at "F" Co. the Sergeant said — 
"Sergeant Foster and Corporal Charlton have both 
served one enlistment in the Artillery, Sir!" "Sergeant 
Foster, have you ever served in the Artillery?" "Yes, 
sir! five years in the Fifth!" Can you drill a gun detach- 
ment?" I could scarcely have offered him a more com- 
plete insult. The old soldier straightened himself up and 



THE cow-boy's verdict 31 

with an extra roll to the "r," replied, with pardonable 
pride "Yes, Si-r-rr! I think I ought to know how" — with 
strong emphasis on the "Know." In a short time he and 
Corporal Charlton were drilling two fine looking gun 
squads at the 3 in rifled guns. After this one need never 
despair of getting any kind of service from a garrison of 
old soldiers. On May 17, therefore, with 15 carefully 
selected men the start was made. I had the four big 
black mules from the post water wagon — and my instruc- 
tions were to tender these fresh mules for use on General 
Sherman's ambulance ; also to offer the use of Mackenzie's 
quarters to him. It was a warm day. We had reached 
Rock Station when I heard the cavalry escort coming 
along at a spanking pace followed by Gen. Sherman's 
ambulance. I mounted my men, saluted — and upon 
being ushered to his side was as cordially greeted by the 
"Old Man" as though I was his "long lost brother;" was 
presented to Gen. Marcy — former Chief of Staff for Gen. 
McClellan — Colonels Tourtelotte and McCoy of his staff 
and Col. Myer of the Q. M. Dept. Gen. S — decHned the 
mules — saying that his were comparatively fresh and 
fast — and in his brisk, breezy fashion said: "That is kind 
in Mackenzie to tender the use of his quarters, but I have 
got plenty of canvas and will pitch our tents right behind 
and close to him." " Your horses look warm." " It would 
be too hard on them to try and keep up with us. If you 
will put us on the right road, you had better come in at 
your leisure. I appreciate it just as much— and I will 
thank Mackenzie personally for his kindness in sending 
you and such a fine looking detachment out to insure my 
safety," I was thinking about the salute. Reluctantly 
acquiescing, without divulging to him the dual role I was 
personating, after I had ventured to suggest that I could 
keep up with his spanking mules, at which he wisely 
shook his head — the honor of firing a salute to the General 
of the Army was thus lost and we arrived crest fallen 
enough at the post about dark too late to notify the gun- 



32 MASSACRE OF SALT CREEK PRAIRIE 

iiers of the "slip" in the programme, and those guns 
were not fired. The General (S — ) was not inclined to 
think so but it was well known that the numerous raids 
about the country in recent months had been committed 
by the Fort-Sill "reservation Indians"; and, after receiv- 
ing the calls of respect from the officers of the garrison, 
he gave a delegation of the citizens an opportunity of 
stating their grievances. 

All had a most bitter story of cruel wrong and murder 
to relate, displaying a number of scalps, some of them 
female, which had been recovered from bands known to 
be the Ki-o-was and Coraanches from the reservation, and 
petitioned him for assistance in recovering their stolen 
stock and punishing these savages. 

A Most Horrible Massacre 

Gen. Sherman was inclined to be very incredulous and 
shook his head in such a manner as to cast doubt upon the 
pleadings of these poor harassed settlers who had been 
expecting so much from him. 

On that very night, the night of deliberation, of doubt 
and uncertainty, almost of despair and what was believed 
by the Jack County ranchers, and cattlemen to be an 
almost hopeless appeal, a wounded man hobbled into our 
post hospital with a horrible tale of massacre and atrocious 
butchery on Salt Creek prairie. His wounds were dressed, 
and in the morning Gen. Sherman, who visited him lis- 
tened again with almost an air of increduhty to the man's 
simple story of the bloody struggle. He alone had escaped 
and in almost a miraculous manner; the balance, as he 
thought had been killed. Twelve men, belonging to 
Henry Warren's corn train of lo wagons had been inter- 
cepted by a large war party of Indians at a point about 
four miles from where I had met Gen. Sherman — Rock 
Station — and on the open prairie near the edge of the 
timber. Having been, as stated — a sort of "Pooh-Bah" — 
Post Adjutant and "what not" — the writer was sent for 



THE cow-boy's verdict 33 

and asked to take down from dictation some letters and 
dispatches which Gen. Sherman wished to rush off with- 
out delay. There were no shorthand sharps, steno- 
graphers, chain lightning writer artists or "Scribes" in 
those days. It was a first experience. There was no 
declining or "backing out." There was nobody to fall 
hack on. It looked Hke a hopeless task. Many times it 
has been wished that those stenographic (?) notes might 
have been preserved for some museum or library. We 
started. The "Old Man' ' was as considerate as his vibrant 
nature would permit. His delivery was like a catapult. 
All sorts of dashes, signs — abbreviations were made — 
which the Sergeant- Major and myself in trying to tran- 
scribe later could hardly decipher or translate the mean- 
ing of — Gen. M. — was directed to send out a strong force 
at once to the scene of the massacre, and ascertain the 
truth or falsity of the man's story. If it proved true, he 
(Mackenzie) was to send couriers through to Fort Grifl&n — 
and with the two companies there to cut the trail, and to 
prepare to move out with his entire command upon the 
trail, and to meet him (Gen. S — ) at Fort Sill, I. T. Let- 
ters were also rushed out to Dept. Headquarters, and to 
Fort Sill, all by runners, couriers or mounted messengers — 
as we had no flying machines — no telephones or other 
means of communication. 

The report proved not to have been exaggerated in the 
least and in a perfect deluge of rain, such as had scarcely 
ever been in Texas before — flooding the parade to the 
depth of several inches — Gen. Mackenzie with four 
companies (A, B, E and F) arrived on the scene. It was 
supposed that this war party of Ki-o-was under Sa-tan-ta, 
their principal war chief, hearing that Gen. Sherman was 
coming that way had planned to intercept and capture 
him, and then hold him as a hostage for a heavy ransom, 
but this story he always most strenuously denied to us in 
broken Spanish during the period — ^June until November 
— that he was held a prisoner at Fort Richardson. 



34 MASSACRE OF SALT CREEK PRAIRIE 

There could be nothing more appalHng, heartrending 
or sickening to the human senses than the spectacle whicK 
was witnessed when our command reached the scene of 
the Salt Creek Prairie massacre. The poor victims were 
stripped, scalped and horribly mutilated; several were 
beheaded; and their brains scooped out — their fingers, 
toes and private parts had been cut off and stuck in their 
mouths, and their bodies, — now lying in several inches of 
water and swollen or bloated beyond all chance of recog- 
nition — were filled full of arrows which made them re- 
semble porcupines. Their bowels had been gashed with 
knives — and carefully heaped upon each exposed abdomen 
had been placed a heap of live coals, now of course, ex- 
tinguished b}^ the deluge of water which was still coming 
down with a torrential power almost indescribable. 

One wretched man, who, fighting hard to the last, had 
evidently been wounded, was found chained to a wagon 
wheel, and, a fire having been made from the wagon pole, 
he had been slowly roasted to death — that he was still 
alive when the fiendish torture was begun, was shown by 
his limbs being drawn up and contracted. The grain 
sacks had also all been cut open and contents dumped 
upon the ground, where it was found, littered and scat- 
tered in every direction. Some distance from the wagons 
dead mules, piles of com soaking in the water — harnesses 
— and other evidences of the fearful struggle were to be 
seen. Here and there a hat, an Indian gew-gaw and a 
plentiful supply of arrows and other debris of the fight 
were spread about the rain-soaked ground. There were 
seven men killed, the names of whom have never been 
published before and are herewith given: S. Long, N. J. 
Baxter, Samuel Elliott, James Bowman, James Elliott, 
James Williams and John Mullen. Forty-one mules had 
been cut loose from the wagons and run off by the re- 
treating Indians — the balance had been killed. The 
balance of the men, some of them wounded, escaped into 
the timber, and later came into Fort R — . Taking the 



THE cow-boy's verdict 35 



trail, Mackenzie attempted to follow it. It was but an 
attempt, for the powerful rains that fell daily in quick 
succession, pounded every vestige and obliterated every 
sign until there was no trace remaining, and rendered it 
impossible to more than take the general direction which 
led through the Wichita swamps and across the Big and 
Little Wichita Rivers and Red River towards Fort Sill. 

Sherman, The Optimist 

Gen. Sherman made a tour of the post — nervous — 
quick, snappy, inspiring, smiling and magnetic as was his 
custom — As post adjutant the writer walked at his side. 
Entering the pecan picket quarters of the men, he shook 
hands with the old Sergeants; gave a hearty greeting to 
the men here and there ; commented on what he saw in the 
kitchens; sampled the soup, etc., then turning to Mac- 
kenzie — with his eyes twinkling, he said with much 
emphasis: "Now, Mackenzie, let's go and see the ladies!" 
They seemed to be nearest his heart. He knocked at 
each cabin door and became, if anything more voluble. 
He spoke cheery words to the wives, shook hands with the 
children, patting them upon their heads; praised all for 
their courage, patience and devotion in sharing the toil 
and isolation of their soldier husbands at this far off 
frontier station remote from the centers of diversion and 
the pleasures of life, but laughingly recommended "early 
marriages" for all, saying : "I did it myself — why shouldn't 
you all do it — Its the best thing for young officers — It 
steadies them up," etc. In short by his warm, inspiring, 
sunshiny presence he made everybody feel that he had 
their best interests at heart ; shared in common all of their 
hardships and privations and that he and they were a part 
of the great whole — the little regular army which then at 
that period was so vital in promoting the advancement of 
civilization on that extreme verge of the United States. 
William Tecumseh Sherman, the versatile general of our 
little regular army, was a confirmed and most consistent 



36 MASSACRE OF SALT CREEK PRAIRIE 

smiling optimist. His success was largely due to that 
essential quality in a great commander. His memory 
for faces was amazing.* 

After expressing his gratitude to the writer and scribe 
for his efforts to connect a long handed letter dictated 
with chain lightning speed — into a shorthand stenographic 
(?) report — he left the post as the command departed, 
pleasant, smiling, volubly chattering, as was his custom. 
Somebody ventured to remark that his scalp might be 
in some danger, but the fine old soldier grimly smiled, 
and patting the Winchester that lay across his lap, called 
out as the Dougherty Ambulance shot forward with his 
armed Infantry escort and with a Sherman twinkle in his 
eye — "Oh, No! I have sixteen shots here myself!" — For 
1 6 days the command swam, waded and struggled through 
the swampy overflowed bottoms of the Wichitas — the 
Ki-o-was all the time spying upon its movements. One 
morning it was found that an Indian had dragged himself 
during the stormy night through the mud and water to 
within a few feet of the camp; had slipped or cut the 
lariat of one of the horses, but becoming alarmed, had 
made off — leaving his knife and moccasin tracks as ample 
proofs of his stealthy bravado. 

General Sherman's Peril — and Nerve — An 
Unwritten Chapter 

Mackenzie's command reached Fort Sill on June 4th 
having left the corn train at the scene of the massacre on 
May 19, when he had dispatched a note to Gen. Sherman 
reporting the frightful condition of things as he had found 
them. 

In the meantime Gen. Sherman had arrived at Fort 
S — Sa-tan-tas Ki-o-wa war party and murderous raiders 

*Five years later Gen. Sherman was delivering the diplomas to the 
graduating class at West Point. The writer was there with Henry W. Law- 
ton — Gen. S — greeted him most cordially — Lawton started to introduce 
us. The "old man's" eyes twinkled; he looked at me a moment with one 
of his quizzical expressions, and then said; "Carter? — Carter? why I know 
him — how are vou Carter— you saved my scalp on Salt Creek Prairie in 
1871"! 



THE cow-boy's verdict 37 



closely following in — no sooner had they arrived then they 
began boasting of the massacre. Gen. S — upon hearing 
of it immediately consulted with Col. Grierson, who was 
then commanding the Tenth Cavalry and the post of 
Fort Sill, and directed that a council should be held at 
Gen. G's headquarters at which all of the chiefs with 
Horace P. Jones and Matthew Leeper, Jr., respectively 
post and agency interpreters should be present. Gen. 
Sherman had taken the precaution, however, to have two 
reHefs of the guard, fully armed, concealed in the house 
behind closed shutters to windows low down and fronting 
directly on, and commanding the entire porch — With 
carbines at a half cock held at the closed blind slats, the 
muzzles were within three feet of the hearts of the hostile 
savages. Every Indian as soon as he should arrive was 
to be carefully covered. All were awaiting developments 
— the crisis. It was a thrilhng moment — Sa-Tan-ta, 
(See- ti-toh— "White Bear")— Ouiri-Parko (Lone Wolf) 
Se-tank, and Big Tree with the sub-chiefs, stalked upon 
the porch — with their pigeon-toed gait, and with blankets 
closely wrapped about their forms although it was warm. 
Concealed beneath them were their bows and loaded 
rifles and pistols. Sherman was, notwithstanding his 
usually excitable and voluable manner, even more im- 
perturbable than the Indians. It was a great game that 
was about to be played. There was no "show down of 
hands," as each narrowly watched the features and move- 
ments of the other. They were like two sets of fighters 
or gladiators with the stage set. The men behind the 
blinds, noiseless and with bated breath in command of a 
nervy officer of the Tenth Cavalry (The "Brunette s") 
closely watched for the signal which, upon any sign of 
treachery, was to be snapped off by the "Old Man" — 
when a blizzard would have launched the last murderous 
Indian into eternity. Through Jones, the Post Inter- 
preter, who spoke Comanche, the Court spoken language 
of the Ki-o-was and other tribes, Sa-tan-ta and his Indians 
were charged with the murder of the teamsters on Salt 



38 MASSACRE OF SAI.T CREEK PRAIRIE 

Creek Prairie, and then of having come in and gleefully 
boasted of it. Sa-tan-ta, who was the spokesman for the 
chiefs, flatly denied the accusation. Upon the absolute 
evidence of the deed being then produced, and upon the 
chiefs, whose motions were now being narrowly watched — 
showing a hesitation or slight wavering — Gen. Sherman 
at once ordered all of them to be seized and taken to the 
post guard house — there to be placed in double irons. 

Then came the crisis — which all had been awaiting 
with almost breathless, tense anxiety. The Indians 
quickly threw back their blankets almost as one man — 
and as if they had rehearsed it — and started to use their 
weapons — and some to string their bows. With Indians 
it took but an instant — when quicker even than their own 
movements, like a flash, Sherman gave the signal — Bang 
open went the blinds like clock work — and with them 
came the simultaneous click of two score carbines to a 
full cock with every trooper's finger ready to press the 
trigger — the open windows filled with "brunettes" 
("Buffalo soldiers") with every eye squinting down the 
barrels — and a death look and meaning in every face. 
This was too much even for the nerves of Sa-tan-ta and 
Lone Wolf — two of the most celebrated and to be feared, 
bloodthirsty Indians along that entire border South of 
Kansas. They knew that in a moment every one would, 
while Gen. Sherman's hand was raised, be shot into 
eternity — Sa-tan-ta gave a half shout or yell of surprise — 
Lone Wolf gave a loud, sharp Ugh!! sprang from the porch, 
before he could be seized, and making a running jump, 
cleared the railing, and bounding over the ground like a 
frightened deer, followed by some of the sub-chiefs, reached 
the flat below the post where all of the Indians were 
gathered to await the result of the council, and giving the 
signal and mounting a pony in waiting for him, the entire 
tribe swept out of the post in one wild rush, their pony's 
lariats dragging and the garrison firing upon them. In 
this running skirmish one or more Indians were killed or 
wounded. Sa-tan-ta, Se-tank and Big Tree were seized, 



the; cow-boy's verdict 39 

ironed and conveyed to the guard house, where they were 
secured. 

Gen. Sherman waited a few days for our command to 
come in and then wrote the following characteristic letter 
— which has never been published even in his memoirs or 
family letters. The writer had his Sergeant- Major 
make a personal copy for future reference when cop)dng 
it into the Letters Received book — it explains itself. 

Gen. Mackenzie Com'dg, Fort Richardson, Texas. 
General: 

I have now waited a whole week here, and have not heard one 
word from you since your note of the 19th, written at the corn 
train 22 miles from Richardson. So I have written you Satan- 
ta, Setank and Big Tree, three of the principal Kiowas, are now 
here prisoners in double irons and strongly guarded, ready to be 
delivered to you or to a Sufficient Guard that you may send for 
them, to be held by the military till tried and executed by 
regular process in the Criminal Courts of the locality where 
they committed the murder in question. 

The Agent of these Indians, Mr. Tatum, asked for their 
arrest, as he is fully convinced that for a long time his Indians 
have been raiding in Texas, that his humane efforts have been 
fruitless, and he now not only consents to, but advises severe 
measures. 

We tried to secure a fourth but some young warrior took the 
alarm and fled, firing their arrows at some soldiers between the 
Fort and the Agency, who returned the fire and killed one dead 
and wounded another, which stampeded all those who are 
about the Agency. At that moment about a dozen were coun- 
selling with me, Genl. Grierson and others as to my judgment 
in Satanta's case some of whom cocked their guns and strung 
their bows; but we had a guard present who aimed their guns 
and we came near having a row. I also demanded that 41 good 
mules should be brought in. 

They are now doubtless at their camps, on the Wichita, 
debating peace or war, and you should take all due precautions, 
as soon as you have a guard to take care of your propert- at 
Richardson. 

All the Cavalry in Texas should operate towards Red River 
and Fort Sill; communications should be opened with this 
place via the Ferry at Red River Station — so that you act in 
concert. If parties of Indians attack soldiers or citizens, they 
should be followed into this Reservation till they realize that if 
they presist in crossing Red River they will be followed back. 



40 MASSACRE OF SALT CREEK PRAIRIE 

I think, however, that the Kiowas and Comanches of the 
Reservation in the arrest of Sa-tan-ta, Setank, and Big Tree, 
will realize this and if my orders for their trial and execution 
in Jack County be not revised or stayed by orders from Wash- 
ington that property on your frontier will henceforth be more 
secure. Satanta says many of the mules of the train were killed 
and wounded; that in the attack he lost three of his warriors 
killed and three badly wounded, and that the warrior here 
killed makes seven, so he says "we are now even", and he ought 
to be let off — but I don't see it. I have written Gen'l. Pope to 
let Grierson have the rest of his Regt. here, so that he also can 
patrol Red River from Cache up to the Wichitas and keep up 
communication with you, and you should dispatch north the 
remaining two companys, of the Sixth Cavalry — for the Indians 
foiled here — may turn for revenge north to the Arkansas. 

Not hearing of you by tomorrow morning I shall renew my 
journey to Fort Gibson, arriving to attend the Indian Council 
at Ocmulgee next Monday. If you get this in a week or ten 
days write me at Fort Leavenworth — send copy of this to 
Gen'l. Reynolds and one under cover to me for record at Wash- 
ington. 

(Signed) W. T. Sherman, Gen'l. 

The Captive Chiefs Conveyed to Texas — "Death 
Chant" and Killing of Se-Tank — An Acrobatic 
Corporal 

Upon the arrival of the worn and mud-bedraggled 
command at Fort Sill on June 4th the Indian prisoners 
were turned over to Mackenzie, and on the 8th, hand- 
cufifed and leg ironed, were placed in the wagons for 
transportation to and trial for murder at Jacksboro, under 
the written instructions from Gen. Sherman already 
quoted. 

Lieut. George A. Thurston of Troop "E" had charge of 
the train guard that day — and Sergeant Miles Varily, a 
tall, fine looking old Scotch-Irish Sergeant of that troop 
with full reddish blonde beard and steel blue eyes, rode 
with several men of his troop in rear of the wagon in which, 
on the floor, was seated Se-tank, the oldest principal Chief 
of the Ki-o-was. A Corporal and two men were seated on 
either side of him, their backs against the side of the wagon, 
with loaded carbines between their legs. It was a hot 



THE cow-boy's verdict 41 

day and the wagon sheets were all loosed and thrown back 
for air — giving an unobstructed view of the prisoners. 
Upon leaving the post Se-tank would have killed himself 
had he not been grasped by Big Tree and restrained until 
he could be placed in the wagon. He then drew his 
blanket closely over his head, thus concealing his face and 
all of his movements, and began most dolefully chanting 
a wild, weird death song as was their custom. The 
Ton-ka-way scouts flanked the train on both sides — all 
the while the wily old scoundrel w^as desperately but 
quietly and noiselessly slipping his handcuffs, skin and 
all. About three fourths of a mile from the Cache Creek 
ford or crossing, he suddenly gave a piercing yell, flung 
off his blanket and jumped to his feet, at the same time 
drove at the corporal with a big scalping knife which, in 
some mysterious manner he had concealed in his legging, 
and stabbed him, although not seriously. The corporal 
dropped his carbine, flung himself over the side of the 
wagon by a very agile back summersault to the ground — 
which would have put to blush the most skillful circus 
ring performer. Se-tank seized the carbine, his wrinkled 
face lighting up with savage joy, and springing the lever, 
leveHng it at the same time at the nearest guard, he 
expected to wipe out the entire wagon load — but — Provid- 
ence, — or, perhaps the wisdom of a careful old soldier 
here intervened. A cartridge having already been thrown 
from the magazine into the chamber, the second one 
jammed, and in an instant, old Sergeant Varil}^ who had 
seen Se-tank's movement, and taking in the situation at a 
glance, opened up a blizzard of carbine fire from the rear 
with his men that sent the old chief to the bottom of the 
wagon a corpse. Varily rode nearest to the wagon, and 
firing first, it was undoubtedly his shot that killed Se- 
tank. The others fortunately missed the balance of the 
men in the wagon, but slightly wounded the teamster on 
the nigh wheel mule — and when Se-Tank's whoop first 
sounded, he imagined that the entire Ki-o-wa tribe was 
about to ride his mule. Se-Tank's body was placed by 



42 MASSACRE OF SALT CREEK PRAIRIE 

the roadside for burial, but our observant Ton-ka-way 
scouts coming along about this time, accumulated his 
scalp as a rich prize and a much valued addition to their 
war trophies. The command moved on as though such 
an incident had never occurred. During this march of 
123 miles from the Fort Sill reservation — Sa-tan-ta and 
Big Tree were closely guarded. At night pickets and 
outposts were thrown well out to prevent surprise, as it 
was surmised that the Ki-o-was, upon learning that their 
chiefs had been taken to Texas there to be tried for murder, 
would follow and attempt their rescue. Herd guards and 
strong sleeping parties were posted and every precaution 
taken to prevent a stampede. The wily chiefs were 
spread out upon the ground, a peg driven at each hand 
and foot and they were then securely bound with raw hide. 

In the Wichita swamps where huge mosquitoes swarm 
in countless thousands and to a size that would have 
shamed a New Jersey "green head" or "Galley Nipper," 
and which, drawing bloood every time they bit, drove 
the entire command for refuge into the smoke of the green 
log fires about the bivouac, the position of our two prison- 
ers can be at once pictured to the dullest imagination. 
The loud, sharp grunts, or Ug-g-g-g-h-h-s ! and long drawn 
out exclamations and strenuous efforts to escape these 
thirsty blood-suckers, sounding strangely on the midnight 
air. Notwithstanding prisoners and guard slept — or 
attempted to — in the dense smoke — the latter with long 
gauntlets and mosquito nets ingeniously made of hoop 
skirt wire and drawing strings so that it would baloon out 
from the face when lying down — all were more or less 
punctured and mutilated before an early reveille called 
all again into the saddle. 

The Ki-o-was were stealthily dogging our rear, closely 
watching for any opportunity which might offer itself 
for a possible rescue of their favorite war-chief. Sa- 
tan-ta's last message, sent in by a Caddo Indian who had 
accompanied Mackenzie as far as Cache Creek was; 
"Tell the Ki-o-was that I may never see any of them again. 



THE cow-boy's verdict 43 



but I now wish them to be at peace with the whites." As 
proof that no value whatever was to be attached to such 
a message, Sa-tan-ta, after being once released through 
the efforts of the "Indian Ring", was caught raiding with 
his Indians — and again made a prisoner. 

Satanta, The Savage — A Dramatic Scene 

It was a bright warm day on the 15 th of June when the 
bronzed, weather-stained and wearied troopers of the 
Fourth Cavalry rode into Fort Richardson, with the 
prisoners closely guarded by our faithful Ton-ka-way 
scouts. They had been given ponies to ride. The rest 
of the garrison with the band, turned out to greet the 
command. The impression made upon the garrison will 
never be forgotten, for Sa-tan-ta the celebrated chief of 
the Ki-o-was whose name had been a terror to all the 
settlers and the entire Texas frontier was now really a 
prisoner of war. As the column halted, every eye was 
upon him. Every man, woman and child had heard of 
his reputation for bloody, almost unspeakable deeds. 

He was over six feet in his moccasins, and, mounted 
upon a small pony, he seemed to be even taller than he 
really was. He was stark naked, from the crown of his 
head to the soles of his feet, except for a breech clout and 
pair of bead embroidered moccasins. Owing to the in- 
tense heat he had allowed his blanket to slip to his saddle 
and about his loins. His coarse, jet black hair, now 
thickly powdered with dust, hung tangled about his neck 
except a single braided scalp lock with but one long eagle 
feather to adorn it. His immense shoulders, broad back, 
deep chest, powerful hips and thighs, contrasted singularly 
with the slight forms of the Ton-ka-ways grouped about 
him. The muscles stood out on his gigantic frame like 
knots of whip cord, and his form proud and erect in the 
saddle, his perfectly immobile face and motionless body, 
gave him the appearance of poHshed mahogany, or, per- 
haps a bronze equestrian statue sprinkled with dust. 
Nothing but his intensely black, ghttering eyes and a 



44 MASSACRE OF SALT CREEK PRAIRIE 

slight motion of the eye Uds betokened any Hfe in that 
carved figure. Every feature of his proud face bespoke 
the disdain with which he regarded the curiosity of the 
crowd now gathered about headquarters to gaze at the 
famous savage chief. His feet were lashed with a raw 
hide lariat under his pony's belly; he was handcuffed — 
and disarmed and helpless, he was indeed a picture of 
fallen, savage greatness. 

Big Tree, his companion, was much lighter in color, 
smaller in stature, and much inferior in his general ap- 
pearance. His features were quite regular, and his nose 
more aquiline. There was something in his face, how- 
ever, that betokened the crafty sneak, and he lacked 
nobility of manner and expression. He was more in- 
terested in the noisy hub-bub about him, and when the 
band played, he frequently turned his head to watch 
them and hear the music — not so Sa-tan-ta; his head 
never turned nor a muscle moved. Big Tree had a single 
feather to ornament his scalp lock, and, like Sa-tan-ta 
he also was naked. 

The captives were turned over to the officer of the day, 
and after a hearty cheering and joyous greeting to the 
dust covered and bedraggled command, after their month 
of wearisome marching and extiting adventures, quiet 
once more reigned. A strong guard was placed at the 
guard house to prevent the incensed people of Jacksboro 
from killing the red handed murderers, as the nervous 
hitching of their six shooters about on their belts showed 
anything but a strong love for their red brothers — for 
some of the murdered men of Henry Warren's corn train 
lived in Jacksboro and went out from it on that eventful 
May day to their frightful death on Salt Creek prairie. 

The writer was Post Adjutant and was in frequent con- 
ference with the Sheriff of Jack County and the District 
Attorney as to the security and safety of the Indian 
prisoners — pending their trial — and the manner by which 
they could without too great risk both be conveyed to the 
Court House — when that day should amve. The guard 



THE cow-boy's verdict 45 

house was within a few yards of Lost Creek, the opposite 
side of which was fringed with a dense chapparral making 
it comparatively easy for a few determined ranchers or 
cow boys to conceal themselves and pick off the prisoners 
the moment they emerged through the doors of their cell. 
The District Attorney's name was S. W. T. Lanham. He 
was from Spartanburg, South Carolina — and lived in 
Weatherford about 40 miles from Fort R — . Many years 
after this trial he became a prominent member of the 
Texas bar — was elected to Congress (about 1896-8) — 
and later, (about 1902) became Governor of Texas — 
serving several terms — One of the counsel appointed to 
defend the prisoners was Frank Ball. He also became 
prominent in politics and was elected to Congress from 
Brackettville serving in the House of Reps, about the time 
Gov. Lanham did. He was at one time a candidate — 
for Speaker of the House. 

Sa-tan-ta's Trial— The Cow-Boy's Verdict 

In accordance with Gen. Sherman's letter of instruc- 
tions herein quoted, the two chiefs were regularly indicted 
for murder in Jack County, Texas — and on July 6 — they 
were removed from the Post guard house to the County 
Court house in the square of Jacksboro for trial, being 
very heavily guarded. The day for Sa-tan-ta's trial for 
murder had arrived. This trial was one of the most 
impressive and picturesque — ^yet most ludicrous acts of 
legal jurisdiction every witnessed by the hardy settlers 
and cow boys of Jack County and was, the writer believes, 
one of the first instances in the United States when an 
Indian Chief was regularly indicted and tried for murder 
by a legally drawn jury under a civil process. The Modoc 
war had not then occurred — the trial of the Modoc chiefs 
taking place nearly three years later. 

The town of "Jack" was swarming with men, all intent 
upon seeing justice done Texans, the state and the red man. 
Accompanied by the Fort Sill interpreter, Horace P. Jones, 
who had come down with the command — and the counsel 



46 MASSACRE OF SALT CREEK PRAIRIE 

who had been assigned, the blanketed chiefs with clanking 
chains walked into the little frame Court House. The 
jury had been empannelled ; the district attorney bustled 
and flourished around. The whole country — every man 
armed to the teeth, tried to crowd in. It was impossible; 
so they surrounded the Court House, and listened almost 
breathlessly through the open windows. 

Two long, dingy-wooden benches, well whittled and 
worn held the jurors who, in their shirt sleeves and with 
''guns' in their belts, nervously hitched about in their 
seats, and uneasily regarded the extreme novelty of their 
situation. Inside the prisoners railing sat the stolid 
chiefs, closely wrapped. The charge was regularly read — 
The interpreter's plead "not guilty" for the prisoners, 
then Ball, their counsel opened up and in a spread eagle, 
but eloquent speech referred to the numerous wrongs 
that the noble red man, "my brother," had suffered, 
wherein he had been cheated and despoiled of his lands, 
driven westward, westward until it seemed as though there 
was no limit to the greed of his white brothers. 

If he had been guilty of acts of violence tovv^ard the 
aggressive race which was driving him out that n^as but 
the excusable retaliation, which merely human instinct, — 
nay, even the instinct of the worm that turns, — required 
of him. 

Warming up to his task, he now threw off his coat, as it 
was an intensely hot day, and discoursed about the times 
of the Aztecs, Cortez and the Montezumas, and pictured 
Gautemozin lying calmly upon a bed of coals, as upon a 
couch of roses. Here he displayed considerable historical 
lore — but when he spoke of the majestic bird, the eagle, 
that emblem of our national freedom, and urged that the 
great chiefs be allowed to "fly away as free and unham- 
pered," we turned quickly to watch the jury. Every 
cow boy juror had been industriously whittling the bench 
with his hunting knife and squirting tobacco juice at a 
crack — But the words of the counsel having been inter- 
preted to the chiefs, their frequent grunts of approval 



the; cow-boy's verdict 47 

and delight at what they supposed meant immediate 
release, now sounded loudly over the court room. We 
noted an immediate change. They all hitched the "shoot- 
in irons" or "wee-pons" — which were strapped to their 
hips, to the front — rolled their shirt sleeves a little higher — 
immediately ceased reducing with their sheath knives the 
proportions of the jury bench, and now closely watched 
for further developments and more oratory. 

The District Attorney was really an able advocate and 
lawyer, and he grew eloquent over the enormity of the 
chiefs crime, as he rapidly painted the cold-blooded 
massacre, and the cruel murder of the poor, white team- 
sters upon Salt Creek prairie. As he pictured the scene, 
the bloody chiefs victims lying cold and stark, the charred 
remains of one who had been slowly roasted alive chained 
to the wheel, every brow on that jury grew black, every 
juryman settled himself in his seat, gave an extra hitch 
to the gun on his belt, and we all saw the verdict plainly 
written on their faces, from the foreman to the very last 
man of the twelve ''tried and true." 

The after piece of the other counsel for the defence had 
no perceptible effect. He took off coat, vest, collar and 
necktie, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and advancing up to 
the foreman, an old gray-headed wrinkled frontiersman, 
shook his fingers at him and gesticulated in the most 
emphatic, even violent manner. It was of no avail. 
The doom of the noble red man was sealed. The jury 
was briefly charged. It retired to a corner of the same 
room — a few moments of hurried consultation and angry 
head shaking, and they were back again in their seats. 
It was extra quick work — "Have the jury agreed upon a 
verdict?" "We have!" What say you, Mr. Foreman, 
are these Indian Chiefs, Sa-tan-ta and Big Tree, guilty, 
or not guilty, of murder?" With a most startling empha- 
sis, the grizzly old foreman shouted so that everybody 
could hear him through the open windows to the crowded 
square — "They are! We Jigger em guilty!" It was a 
unanimous verdict. 



48 MASSACRE OF SALT CREEK PRAIRIE 

They were sentenced to be hanged but the pressure 
from Washington was so great, the "Indian Quaker Ring" 
was so all powerful at that period — as that of the pacifists 
have been during the recent great world war — that Gov. 
Davis of Texas felt compelled to commute their sentences 
to imprisonment for life. 

We held them as prisoners at Fort Richardson until 
the following October or November. During good 
weather they were taken out of the post guard house for 
air and exercise. The writer either as officer of the day or 
guard, frequently had them under his charge. During 
these periods, in their walks about the corrals and "Suds- 
ville" (laundress' quarters), their leg irons and handcuffs 
were never removed, except on one occasion when Sa-tan- 
ta contracted a genuine, and pretty bad case of guard- 
house itch, and then his handcuffs were unsnapped to 
permit him to scratch his ankles and apply some kind of 
soothing salve prescribed by the post surgeon. They 
were then transferrred to the State Penitentiary at Hunts- 
ville — where, a year later, they were released at the earnest 
soUcitation of Indian Humanitarians for a short period 
on their good behavior. This was in September, 1872. 
The writer received them at Dallas, Texas, from the 
Civil Authorities in the middle of the night, heavily ironed, 
and guarded by jailers from the State Penitentiary at 
Hunts\dlle, Texas, and after many trials and tribulations, 
during which, and being more than forty miles from any 
telegraph office — he was compelled to disobey the positive 
orders of the Dep't Commander and turn them over to the 
Indian Commissioners at Atocha, Indian Nation (now 
Oklahoma), although the place of deUvery was Fort Sill, 
I. T. — But that is another story — Being caught red 
handed in 1874, away from their reserv-ation — they were 
returned to Huntsville, when Sa-tan-ta, whose work was 
cane seating chairs, ended his life by throwing himself 
headlong from an upper balcony to the brick pavement 
below — Thus ended the life of one of the worst Indians in 
the history of this country. 



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